


Adventures of Stavish and Haaj

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Intense Relationship, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:02:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22088326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: In eighth century Norway, a king and his champion face numerous tests, physical and emotional.Thanks to a private comment offered by MariaPriest, the ending has been slightly edited for this posting.
Relationships: King Haajensen and Ambassador Stavish
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Adventures of Stavish and Haaj

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on Day 9 of the 2019 Starsky & Hutch Advent Calendar, this story is the sequel to King Haajensen and Ambassador Stavish, the two parts of 'The Iron Throne' that appeared on Day 3 of the 2018 Starsky & Hutch Advent Calendar ( http://starskyhutcharchive.net/advent/2018/calendar/?p=159 ).
> 
> My appreciation to Wightfaerie for the initial image, 'Hutch on the Iron Throne,' which was one of Day 17’s gifts on the 2017 Advent Calendar  
> ( http://starskyhutcharchive.net/advent/2017/calendar/?p=368 ), plus the subsequent encouragement and betas. Thanks, Kid!

HAAJENSEN

My name is Haajensen and, since the murder of my father, I am a king. The year following his death seemed endless and, at times, I feared for my lands, the people under my rule, and my very sanity. I was besieged on all sides with no real hope of relief. And it was in that frame of mind that I agreed to a meeting with Ambassador Stavish.

Since that fateful day, my advisors have attempted to take credit for his fortuitous appearance. I, however, am of the belief that my prayer to Thor was the cause. Either way, I am more grateful than I can say for his presence. He has been our salvation, militarily, and has retrieved me from the edge of the abyss. At the time, I felt I had no one to turn to. Now, I bask in his friendship, loyalty and trust. His courage is unmatched, and his excellent strategies have allowed our meager forces to repel all recent attempts to capture our lands.

Skirmishes, forays, even full battles have been handled with alacrity and small loss of life, on our part. I am content, more so than I could have hoped to be less than a twelve-month ago.

STAVISH

Why did Radek and I come here? It’s much farther north than we had ever ventured and, even though I have spent many hours in contemplation of that question, no reasonable answer has presented itself. I have never been a believer in gods or the fates and, even though Haajensen has told me he prayed, I find it difficult to credit the idea that I was… guided, drawn, compelled by some deity to arrive in this place when I did.

I had assisted with the peaceful arrangements for a marriage between the young prince of a warlike tribe and the eldest daughter of a neighboring clan. Apparently, no one had considered the option until I pointed out the efficacy of joining the two youngsters, who were clearly already in love, in a union which would, of necessity, bring the squabbling groups into something of an alignment, if only romantically. 

My squire and I took our leave on the morning after the nuptials and, for some reason unknown to me, either at the time, or now, set out on a road that led north. Perhaps I was unconsciously thinking of the Sky Sword. That’s a possibility, I suppose. Since I had first heard the legendary and scarcely believable tales, I had been tantalized. Did such a weapon exist? Did the king who wielded it deserve the praise and laudatory comments I’d heard? Having had commerce with a multitude of leaders, rulers, governors and kings, I had my doubts. I have discovered, during my travels and associations, that most men, under scrutiny, show their more-often-than-not sullied colors. Could this King Haajensen be the paragon I’d heard about? Could the Sky Sword be, in truth, the ultimate weapon? Perhaps I was determined to find out.

And find out I did. From the moment I entered Haajensen’s throne room, I knew my wandering was over. During the past months, I have fallen under the spell of his sky-blue gaze and given my soul into his keeping.

RADEK:

My master and I have been in this cold, cold place for nine turns of the moon and, although I didn’t wish to come here, I’ve never been happier in my short life than I am now. The king has been very kind to me and I have warmer clothes than I’ve ever worn, more food in my belly than is perhaps good for me, and a comfortable place to sleep in a small chamber next to my master’s. And our quarters are right beside the king’s; he would have it no other way. He has proclaimed that my master is his truest friend and will be at his side always.

I have been squire to Ambassador Stavish for six years and, in that time, I have never seen him so devoted to another person. It is as if he, my master, has found the other half of his soul. When they are not actively engaged in warfare in defense of this land, they talk for hours, not just of battle plans and strategy, but of their lives before they met. Even when they run out of words, they seem to converse silently. And, although I have no idea what Haajensen’s countenance looked like before we arrived, I can attest to the fact that he smiles a great deal, as does my master, when they are in each other’s company. 

The king’s squire, Axel, has become my best friend. He is most likely close to the same age I am. I don’t know exactly how old that is, since my mother died when I was very young and she never told me when I was born, but I can remember twelve summers. Axel has hair as golden as the king’s and eyes almost as blue. He teases me about my olive skin and brown eyes but the words are said kindly. When not waiting on our masters, we spend all our time together.

Axel and I are committed to the care of our masters, refusing to be separated from them if they are wounded. Thankfully, this has only happened once and the dagger slashes each incurred during a border skirmish healed well. This was due, I believe, to the swift action taken by my master after the last enemy soldier had fled. Allowing no argument, he saw to the king’s wound, with my aid, before anyone else. Haajensen watched intently, giving no voice to the pain I knew he must be feeling. He asked questions and listened carefully to the replies. As soon as the deep gash in his side had been treated and bound, he insisted on attending, with my help and guidance, to my master’s injuries. They were both up half the night afterward, along with Axel and myself, taking care of our wounded.

You see, on our long journey to this place, my master, by necessity, gained much knowledge of battlefield injuries and how to tend them. With no thought to my being of a lower class, he has shared this learning with me.

The soldiers and knights under this king’s command have nothing but good words to say regarding the care they have received from my master. I have heard them of an evening, sitting around their campfire, praising my master for having saved this arm or that leg, causing a sword cut to close and heal when, under their customary physician’s hands, the loss of a limb, or even death, might have occurred.

Three times, since we arrived, I have carried my master’s arms into battle and remained close to him as he stood by the king’s side. Neither will stay behind the lines – they insist on leading whatever offensive is deemed necessary. They are well-matched, this blond-haired monarch and my dark-haired master; the king always at my master’s right shoulder while they fight together, seamlessly. Haajensen wields his mighty sword with his right hand while my master takes on the enemy with his scimitar in his left. Left- and right-handed daggers complete the wall of steel our opponents must face.

Axel and I, with our dirks extended, discourage any who attempt to come at them from the rear.

So far, the king’s forces have been victorious. But rumors of new incursions surface almost daily and I know my master is concerned, not only for the king’s safety but for that of this small country he seems to have taken as his own.

We have wandered for years, he and I, serving whenever and wherever my master thought he was needed. Never have we stayed in one place this long. And never has my master shown no interest whatsoever in moving on. As this has become my home as well, I am content.

I have heard talk among the servants that Oleg Severssen, one of the most prominent members of the king’s court, is displeased over my master’s close association with the king and is attempting to foment unrest. I must make sure my master and the king understand what he is trying to do behind their backs.

“Axel!” the king calls from the other chamber and, startled, my friend tumbles off the end of my cot.

“Radek!” My master’s voice follows close behind. “Get to sleep, both of you. We march again at daylight.” 

OLEG SEVERSSEN

The newcomer, Stavish — what kind of name is that? — is a thorn in my side. Before his arrival, I was Haajensen’s closest confident and advisor. As his cousin, I was next in line to the throne, since he has no siblings and no heir, as yet. Now, I find the usurper worming his way closer to the king’s side every day. And he is too perceptive, this ambassador. I fear I have not hidden my ambition from him and he may alter the king’s opinion of me. 

During the year following his father’s death, I worked in secret with our neighboring rulers, passing information about our troops’ strengths and locations. It was my fervent hope that one of their raids would result in Haajensen’s demise.

The battle from which he and Stavish have just returned was my most recent endeavor. It failed, according to reports from my informants, due to the cowardly behavior of the man who vowed he would fulfill my wish and end the life of my cousin. Instead, he and his knights ran at the first appearance of our battle force, Haajensen and Stavish at its forefront.

I have not depended entirely on the vicissitudes of battle, however. By subtly planting questions and dissatisfaction about what I, and implied others, considered the outlander’s unseemly access to our monarch into the minds of our soldiers and common people, I believed I could undermine their growing friendship. Such has not been the case, though. People have taken the foreigner to their hearts. They must see something in him that I certainly do not!

Therefore, with no other choice, I have hired trusted assassins — can an assassin ever be trusted? If I pay them enough to kill a king, could someone else not pay them more to betray me? It is too late to think of that, as plans are in motion.

A pair I was told are unmatched and always successful, has been spirited into Haajensen’s chamber and hidden behind the night soil screen. The first moment the king is alone, they will silence him forever. I was assured they have never failed a commission.

Ah, here comes my soon-to-be-deceased relative. But, no, it is the usurper, and he is alone. I expected them to be together, as usual, and part only at Haajensen’s door, with Stavish proceeding to his adjacent chamber. What has happened?

Perhaps I will need to find Haajensen and finish him myself. I am glad, now, that I brought my sword with me this night. I may have use for it.

Was that a sound behind me? No, it cannot be. I have dosed the servants with a sleeping draught. By this hour, they must all be abed. Could someone has discovered my plot? I will not believe that since I’ve been so careful. I turn quickly, knowing I will have to take the life of whoever threatens me. 

A needle-sharp point enters my chest. There is little pain, yet I know I am dead as a voice whispers, “Traitor.”

HAAJENSEN

I would not have believed such perfidy from one I considered a friend. Stavish never trusted Severssen but, had it not been for Axel’s and Radek’s warning, I would have been taken unaware in my bed chamber, and killed.

Instead, Stavish has, by now, dispatched the assassins waiting there and I have extracted payment from my cousin. All three bodies will be displayed on the walls come morning.

I order the corpses removed to the ice house. As soon as this has been done, Stavish joins me in my chamber and we talk for hours. I have never known anyone so attuned to my mind and way of thinking; it’s as if I don’t even have to voice my thoughts and he responds.

When we finally say good night, I drift to sleep only to be startled awake by an unearthly presence. I’m not a religious man and if someone had asked me yesterday if I believed in ghosts I would have scoffed. No longer.

“You make me very proud.” The soft words come from a deeply shadowed alcove and, although he’s been dead for nearly two years, I recognize it immediately as my father’s voice. I sit up, gathering the bedclothes around me, and his form shimmers into the dim light cast by the glowing coals in the fireplace.

“Are you real, Father?” I didn’t know if I was dreaming, or if Severssen’s attempt on my life had addled my brain.

Clearly reading my uncertainty, the figure smiles. “Ghost, shade, spirit, call me whatever you wish but I assure you I am as real as my current state allows me to appear in your world.”

“Why have you come?”

“Your mother urged it because I was hesitant.” He raises a hand to forestall the question I was about to ask. “Oh, not that I didn’t want to speak with you. No, it was because I didn’t want you to think I was available whenever you wished to have converse.”

“I can’t recall that you were ever available at such a time.” My tone is harsher than I had intended and I can only hope he doesn’t take offense.

He laughs, and it is the first time I can remember hearing him do so, except when in the company of others. “No, I suppose I wasn’t. Which is one of the reasons I acquiesced to your mother’s prompting. I wanted to apologize for being distant and aloof when you were growing up. Lars told me I was not paying sufficient attention to you but I always seemed to be involved with diplomatic and martial affairs. I left the raising of you to your mother. And I can see, after this past year’s events, and then last night’s activity, that she did an excellent job.”

My father’s transparent image approaches the bed and extends his right hand. Without thought, I reach for it, encountering only frigid emptiness.

Again, he laughs, and withdraws the appendage. “Alas, we are, evidently, not to be in physical contact. I will have to make do with words, I suppose.”

I pull the coverlet more closely around me. “I am listening, Father.”

Probably knowing he is causing me discomfort, he walks to the arrow slit in the wall adjacent the bed and stares at the thin horn pane. I cannot imagine his vision is able to penetrate the membrane but he stares, nevertheless.

“I watched you take charge of the remnants of our army, and the civilians, after Lars and I were slain, and I ached. I had not anticipated Helgason’s treachery and had no premonition that the kingdom would be yours after that day.” He turns back to me. “Highly capable hands, as it turned out, but ones forced to deal with the myriad of threats for which I had not prepared you.”

“I did my best, Father.”

He approaches again but does not attempt to touch me. “Indeed you did.” His smile warms the chill air between us. “Which is why your mother and I decided I should speak with you before one more hour passed. She and I are proud of you and happy for you. This new ambassador is worthy of you, as he has proved more than once, and most especially this past night. Value him, my son.”

“I do, Father. Please tell Lars I have found his equivalent.”

“That I shall. Even though I believe he is as aware of the situation as your mother and I are.”

Another thought occurs to me. “May I tell Stavish of this encounter?”

He appears to contemplate. “If you think he will believe you.”

Having known Stavish for less than a full year, I couldn’t say I was positive but, somehow, I felt as if he would. “He is my dearest friend and I would like him to know of your approval.”

“Then, by all means tell him.” Again, he smiles. “I shall be watching closely and hope he does not disparage your tale, as many would.”

“You are correct, of course. So I suppose we’ll both see, won’t we?”

A cock crows outside and my father turns to listen. “I have overstayed my time,” he says, turning back, “and must leave. Before I go, however, I will say, again, how relieved and proud I am that the kingdom is in your hands. You are the best of me and, although I never told you, I love you.”

The words take my breath. “No, you never told me. But I am happy to hear it now. I’m not sure if I loved you, sir, but I respected and honored you. Perhaps that was love.”

He nods solemnly. “I’ll accept it as such.” In the next moment, he is gone.

Gradually, the air warms as I sit, knees drawn to my chin, wondering if I was losing my mind. A soft knock precedes Stavish’s entrance – we no longer wait to be given permission to enter each other’s quarters.

“Did I hear voices?”

There is my answer – I had not imagined the visitation. I hold out my arm, he crawls onto the bed and I arrange the covers over both of us. “I just had the longest conversation I’ve ever had with… my father.”

“Ah. I recognized your voice but knew I had never heard the other.”

I am almost surprised. “You believe me?”

“Of course I do. I can’t conceive of a situation where you would lie to me.”

“But… I’ve talked with a ghost.” I shake his shoulders. “Most people think they don’t exist.”

“Most people haven’t had the experiences you and I have. Although I’ve never seen one myself, I’m not about to say they’re not real. If you tell me you’ve talked with the shade of your father, I say, what words of wisdom did he impart?”

I ruffle his hair. “That he and mother are proud of me.”

He nudges me gently in the ribs. “Naturally.”

“No,” I counter, “not naturally. My relationship with my father was not one you would call close. He was the king and this is a beleaguered land. He had no time for me.”

“I’m glad, then, that you have had the chance to learn of his pride in you.”

He smothers a yawn and I suddenly realize that neither of us is getting the rest we very much need. I lift the blankets and begin to push him out of bed. “I’m sorry our discussion intruded upon your sleep, though. Go back to bed.”

Instead of leaving, he remains at my side, pulling the covers around us. “Not sleep. Dozing, perhaps.” He rests an arm, proprietarily, across my waist. “Last night is still much on my mind. You have enemies within your court and we must be more vigilant than we have been.”

“With Severssen’s betrayal, I fear you are correct.”

“You need to tell me all you know about each of your relatives and close associates. Any of them could have decided not to wait for you to die of old age.”

“If Oleg had been successful last night,” I wonder-out-loud, “what would you have done?”

“Killed him.”

“How would you have known who was responsible?”

“Recently, he has had an evil look in his eyes each time he stared at you. You did not see it because he was careful to change his expression quickly enough. Others of your court are not happy with my position at your side, either, but Severssen truly hated you. He wanted the throne.”

“We must pay strict heed to what our squires tell us.”

“And recruit others who do not share Severssen’s opinions and desires.”

I throw back the covers and grab my shearling robe, belting it tightly around me because I’m suddenly quite cold. At the fireplace, I stir the embers and add several small logs. I squat on my heels as the warmth pulses and Stavish joins me, a blanket clutched around his shoulders. We sit side by side on the thick ram’s pelt in front of the hearth.

“Since we both seem to be awake too early,” he says, “and as I have no vellum on which to write the names of potential evil-doers, why not tell the tale of the Sky Sword’s making and your heroic retrieval of it? I have heard various versions, some less believable than others, but not the true one from your own lips.”

I pull a woolen wrap out of a chest and throw it around both of us. “Not heroic, merely desperate.” Without intent, my gaze focuses on the mythic sword hanging in its sheath from the back of my chair. “My grandfather was raised on stories of a star that fell from the heavens many years before he was born. Leading an expedition into the mountains far north of here while still a youngling, and guided by the only man old enough to have heard the legend first-hand, he found a deep, unnatural-appearing depression in the ground.”

“Unnatural?”

“Yes. In that it seemed to be made by humans and not something Nature had contrived. It was too regular, too round, they said, with a raised lip on all sides, for it not to have been a construction of some kind.”

“Go on,” he prompts.

“Embedded at the bottom of that hollow,” I continue, “was a large stone. It was darker and far heavier than any rock ever seen. With much effort, it was dug out and hauled back. After years of attempts to break it or melt it, a very savvy blacksmith arrived from the East, carrying tools he claimed were of his own design and making. He used much higher heat, over a longer period of time than anyone had thus far attempted, and although some claimed he had used magic, not fire, the stone turned molten. The smith shaped the resultant metal by folding and beating it numerous times. When the final form was achieved, it took an edge sharper than any other, and was impervious to damage.”

“How did he give it an edge if the metal was impervious?”

I can’t help but smile. To my knowledge, I am the only person who had ever asked my grandfather that question and it increases my awareness that my new friend is an intelligent, perceptive man. “The smith said his tools were made from the same heavenly material and were, therefore, able to affect it.”

“Thus,” he says, softly, “the Sky Sword was born.”

“My grandfather carried it in battle from the day the hilt was affixed to the tang and was never defeated, honorably. It was said that only treachery could take it from its rightful owner’s hand.”

“Treachery,” he repeats, “such as that used against your father.”

“Yes. A minor king named Helgason, coveted our lands. He laid siege to our northern most village and waited until word had come south and my father responded. What we didn’t know was that Helgason had allied himself with one of his former rivals and, when my father and Lars arrived to break the siege, Sturleson and his heavily armed force attacked us from both flanks.

“Father ordered me and my knights to get our wounded across the river and to evacuate the village, while he and Lars stayed to cover us. I stood on the bank across from the battle, organizing the withdrawal of the villagers who remained alive, as well as our wounded, and saw Helgason and Sturleson overwhelm the king and his knights. My father and Lars were the last to fall. Helgason lifted the Sky Sword aloft and crowed so loudly I heard him above the river’s roar.”

“Is he the one you…?”

“Tricked is the word you’re searching for. Yes, he’s the one. I spread the rumor that my personal guard and I would be reviewing the far outposts I’d installed after my father’s death. We would be a small force, inspecting and encouraging only.”

“And Helgason, being a greedy, covetous fool, thought he’d catch you without sufficient men around you, and end the Haajensen lineage?”

“That was his plan, as I was later told.”

“Did you make him suffer for his effrontery? I hope?”

“I didn’t, no. I sent one of my knights into the outpost, wearing my clothing, and waited until Helgason committed himself and his army. I swooped down from the hills and my retainers decimated the enemy while I took Helgason for myself. Understanding of what he’d done, and that he was about to pay for it with his life, filled his eyes. I wanted to take him close-in so I fought my way through his frantic slashes and thrust my dagger into his belly. I grabbed the Sky Sword from his dying hand and cut off his head with it.”

“Fitting.” Stavish’s voice is filled with satisfaction. 

STAVISH

My king, my companion and best friend is dying. I have some experience with battlefield medicine but a spear entering next to the spine and exiting the chest is a wound I have never seen anyone survive. 

Radek and Axel gather on either side of us as I lay the king gently on his side on the ground. Blood bubbles from the full lips and I am more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life. 

We had fought side-by-side through the afternoon and, as light faded, our force finally broke through the enemy’s line. The cowards threw down their weapons and fled but a villain rose from the mound of bodies behind us, savagely kicked Radek and Axel aside, and thrust his spear in Haajensen’s back. I slew the man with a single cut of my sword and caught my friend as he fell. 

Now, as our forces trickle back to us, I order the king’s tent erected and water to be boiled. With Axel’s and my squire’s considerable help, I break off the head of the weapon and draw the shaft from Haajensen’s back. Radek is ready with pads of soft cloth to staunch the bleeding in front and behind.

Immediately the tent is ready, willing hands carry the king inside and cover him with blankets and wolf skins. Quietly, unable to help, they leave to set up camp and keep watch, all except Radek and Axel. I could not force them to go away if I threatened them with death. The physician flaps his hands, declares the king is already dead, and leaves.

I scour my knowledge of healing for any action I can take to stave off the fever that will creep into the vilely damaged body in my care. The blood has been stopped with the poultices Radek prepared, but too much has been lost and I have no way of replacing it! His right lung is punctured and no longer inflates with his shallow breathing. Whether ribs are splintered or the spine injured I have no way of knowing, until he wakes. If he wakes.

He does not and, as the hours pass, I become fearful to the point of despair. Sitting on a camp stool beside his bed, I clutch his hand in both of mine. “Please,” I whisper, so as not to disturb either of the squires who sleep in the corner, “you Norse gods and anyone else who can hear me, help me save the life of this good man. He is a ruler loved by his people, struck down by a cowardly attack. Please, don’t allow him to die.”

A woman’s figure materializes on the far side of the cot and it takes me several moments to realize it’s not my tortured brain’s imagination. I throw more charcoal on the brazier but the increased illumination does nothing to make the figure substantial. “If you are a spirit, come to take my friend, I will fight you!” I stand and draw my sword, ready to defend Haajensen with my life. “You will have to kill me first.”

She moves closer and, to my astonishment, reaches her right hand toward my king’s head. Her fingers hover over the golden strands. “He is my son.”

Stunned, I sit, and my blade falls to the ground. “I have heard your husband’s voice, Lady. Why did he not come, as he did before?”

“He fears Kenneth will be joining us soon and is having great difficulty with that prospect. He urged me to appear in his stead.” 

“Are you here to help, then?” I ask, hating the whine in my voice. “Or to take him away from me?”

“The outcome of this night’s vigil is not in my hands, young warrior. But be assured that I have some favor in the eyes of the gods and I will petition them to save his life.”

“Will they listen?” I hardly dared breathe.

“That I cannot know until I ask,” she replies. 

Her voice is soothingly melodious and my frayed nerves become slightly less tense. Still, I am desperate. “Since I believe there is not a moment to spare, madam, please do so as quickly as possible.”

“That I shall, Master Dawid. I simply wanted to assuage my curiosity as to the honor and steadfast nature of the one who has claimed my son’s heart.”

My own heart skips beats before racing. “Excuse me?”

Her smile is radiant and she envelopes me in it. “He has not yet told you, I know, but I perceive that he has found in you the person he has been seeking all his life. The person whose soul is as pure and honest as his, whose heart is as dedicated to the service of his people, and whose devotion to no more than one other, is second only to that which my son feels for the gods. He loves you.”

I speak without thinking. “As I love him!”

Her other hand lightly stirs the air over my head before she speaks again. “I’ll leave you now, and make my plea to Odin and the rest. If they will it, you should notice a change for the better by morning.” Her image fades, then disappears.

I had had visions before but none as real as this. Haajensen’s mother’s spirit is, without a doubt, as strong as his father’s. I place my forehead on the hand I clasp and wait.

Floating between wakefulness and sleep, I raise my head, sensing and half-seeing immensely powerful beings. They arrive and depart, converse softly in a language I do not understand - one that sounds as ancient as the rocks of the mountains - and study the still figure on the cot. An especially large form lowers a hand over the wound in Haajensen’s chest for what seems like a very long time. Finally, with an audible sigh of possible contentment, the figure withdraws.

When the last has departed, Haajensen’s mother’s spirit returns, a glow on her lovely face that tells me she has been successful.

“I sincerely hope the bargain you have struck, dear lady,” I say, “will not require too onerous a payment.”

Her light laughter sounds like ripples in a stream. “Not onerous at all, good sir. And one I and my husband will happily honor.”

“Thank you,” I murmur. “You have given me back my life, as well, for I would have been nothing without your son. Thank you.”

She brushes a nearly-felt kiss on my cheek and lays a shimmering hand on Haajensen’s head. “You will watch over each other and be happy.” 

“Thank you,” I whisper again as her image dissolves.

With daybreak creeping into the tent, Haajensen stirs. He moans softly and opens his eyes. “Stav?”

“Shhhhh. Be still. You were sorely wounded and need to rest.” I nudge Radek’s foot with mine and he jumps to his feet. “The king is awake. Be quick and bring a bowl of warm broth as well as water to drink.”

With the sleepy-eyed Axel on his heels, they hurry outside. I can hear excited yelling as our squires spread the good news.

“My mother,” Haajensen whispers. “She was here?”

I bend and kiss the knuckles of his hand, knowing we will have only a few moments before we are interrupted. “Yes.”

“She interceded for me with the gods, didn’t she?”

“That did sound like her intention,” I reply.

“They came?” His tone is incredulous.

“I cannot swear to what happened. All I know is that, last night you were dying. This morning, you are alive - and will heal - with time, and care.”

“Your care.” He squeezes my hand and closes his eyes.

I begin to hear bustling and loud voices outside. Haajensen opens his eyes as if forgetting we had been talking, and peers toward the tent’s entrance. “Did we win the battle?” 

I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, my king, we did.”

“That’s good.” He goes to sleep almost immediately leaving me to assure our knights and soldiers that their monarch would live. 

HAAJENSEN

Stavish and I talk endlessly as I am conveyed back to the fortress in one of the covered supply wagons, on a bed of moss and dried reeds. At Stavish’s insistence, the matting is changed daily, in order to prevent mold and mildew. The trip, which took only days, outbound, requires many more on the way home. He sits with me constantly, whenever he is not tending the others who were wounded, refusing the physician’s meddling. And to my supposedly learned elder’s amazement and grumbling, I, and they, are more than content in Stavish’s capable hands. The quack will probably never forgive us and I find I am unconcerned.

An afternoon’s conversation lags and I believe I know what is causing periodic silences between us. As casually as possible, I take his hand. “Did my mother give away my secret?” 

His face colors, but he stares at our entwined fingers and says nothing.

I keep my voice pitched below the sounds of the creaking wagon, horses’ hooves and tramping boot-shod feet, so that he will be assured that no one will overhear. “I’ve thought I was in love before, Stav. Once or twice.”

“But now?” His tone is more timid than I ever imagined it could be.

“Mother was right. You’re everything I’ve ever searched for in a mate, or a companion, a friend. I’ve fallen in love with you and want us to be lovers as well as brothers in arms.”

“You’ve beaten me to the words, Haaj, but not to the emotion. I’m in love with you, too.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, I feel a surge of energy through our hands. “Let us cement this new direction in our relationship as soon as possible after we return.”

“Only when I deem you are strong enough,” he intones, and I know he means it.

Needless to say, I recover as quickly as nourishing food, plenty of rest and moderate exercise allows. He is reluctant to agree to my assessment of what I knew was almost completely renewed good health but, under persistent urging and almost constant double-entendre references and pleas, he relents. 

I have had lovers before but never one as considerate, inventive, passionate, and, at the same time, gentle as my Ambassador Stavish. From the moment I barred both doors to my chamber and we disrobed each other, it has been an adventure and a dream come true. I can wish for no other love for the remainder of my life.

STAVISH

I know I am detested by Osten Daag. More than ever, now that I share the king’s bed. 

Axel has confided in me that Daag had hoped, with Severssen’s betrayal and death, that he, Daag, would become the king’s principal counselor. They’d been friends since boyhood so it was his natural assumption.

Instead, I, a foreigner, an interloper, according to what Axel and Radek tell me Daag is saying to anyone who will listen, have inveigled my way into the king’s confidence. What right have I, he asks, to such an exalted place at Haajensen’s side? I’m a newcomer. I haven’t been here through all the years of war and strife; I have no way of knowing the struggles everyone has endured.

In addition, Daag is claiming, now that Haajensen and I are never apart, that I will be the cause of the failure of Haajensen’s line. Since he is sleeping with only me, he will never sire an heir, Daag is telling people.

Sitting in the afternoon sun on the balcony outside the throne room, I know I must bring up the subject we’re both thinking about. “Osten Daag is right, you know. You have not listened to a single offer of marriage from any of the petitioners since I came to your court.”

He makes as if to respond but I continue quickly. “If you do not wed, Sire, there will be no heir to wear the crown after you.”

As if against his will, he nods. “I’ve heard him, and he’s very persuasive.” He puffs his chest out, with a hand over his heart, and duplicates Daag’s stentorian tones: “How can our king beget an heir, someone to hold this land after he’s gone, if he’s only fornicating with the outlander? He must take a female as wife! It is his duty!” He laughs before swallowing a gulp of ale. “If Daag were not such a fool, I’d abdicate, let him sit on the throne and have carnal knowledge of every acceptable female he can find.”

I laugh with him but I know that this is a serious problem and that we must find a solution. “Yesterday, your uncle Rikard told me he has an idea.” 

Haajensen’s expression turns guarded. “Go on.”

“Returning from his last foray to the Kingdom of the Isles, he brought a Celtic warrior princess with him.” I can see the image of a woman equal to his own nature settle into Haajensen’s mind. “Her name is Maeve.” I sip my own brew, allowing him time to think. “Rikard says she’s a firebrand and vows never to be touched, much less tamed, by a Viking barbarian! She swears she is a virgin and that no Norseman will have her maidenhead.”

His sky-blue eyes begin to sparkle and I know the door is open. Now, all I have to do is make sure it stays that way. “She might be the prefect vessel for your seed - a woman nearly matched in valor to yourself, to be your queen, to bear your children.” 

His smile turns rueful. “It sounds as if you’ve been thinking about this entirely too much, Stav.”

I shrug. “Perhaps. Doesn’t make it any less true, though. Daag is likely to foment unrest unless you take a wife. And, if you must take a wife, why not one you can admire and honor, even if you never love her.”

“Who says she’ll accept me?” I raise a single eyebrow and color floods Haajensen’s cheeks. When I lean forward to kiss him, he catches my hand. “No, I’m serious, what if she hates me on sight?”

“King Haajensen,” I say, with mock-scorn, “when have you ever set your mind to something and failed?”

He gives the question serious thought before shaking his head. “Never.”

I kiss him lightly. “Shall I have Rikard call on us to discuss the situation?”

He sighs deeply. “I suppose you might as well.”

MAEVE

I’ve been a… guest of Rikard’s for mere weeks and, already, he says he has found an honorable solution to all our difficulties. Thankfully, my tutors had insisted I learn the languages of any people we Celts might encounter and I am able to converse with the savage who holds me and the members of my household who were captured with me.

Rikard says that if I agree, for the next fortnight, not to attempt to savage his servants when they bring us food, change our bedding, and empty the slops pail, he will make the necessary arrangements to give me to King Haajensen as wife and queen.

Well, that may solve Rikard’s problem before my kinfolk discover his hidden fortress and raze it to the ground, but it will not solve mine! Who is this King Haajensen whose virtue and accomplishments he extols with such animation? I have certainly never heard of him. Kings seem to be legion in this god-forsaken land of rocks and ragged mountains. I have never been so cold! I long for home but fear I shall never see it again. 

Enid is as depressed as I, but swears she will never leave my side; wherever I must go, she will accompany me. She will not accept any of the proposals she has had from Rikard’s knights, no matter how honorable they might be.

So, today we three, Rikard, Enid and I, along with his retainers and my household, journey to King Haajensen. I am covered in the finest, warmest furs it has ever been my pleasure to wear and, beneath, is a gown I would not have believed such savages could produce. I feel almost regal and imagine my father would be proud of me. I hold myself erect and stare down each man whose eyes meet mine. If I am to be queen in this foreign land, then I will be such a queen as they shall never forget. 

Rikard’s barge is met by what I assume are royal guards and we are escorted through the small, rustic town to the ancient palace of the kings of this land. The stairs, as we mount them, are wide and impressive.

A chamberlain announces us in tones that echo off the bare walls, and we enter the throne room. Unexpectedly, I am amazed. Innumerable swords make up the horrific chair the king must usually occupy but it is empty. Instead, the king stands to the side, a single warrior at his left hand. I recognize the monarch, my intended, only by the simple crown he wears over his sunlight-hued hair.

Without intent, my eyes are drawn to the sword that hangs off the king’s left hip. I stifle the instant urge in my right hand: the urge to grasp that hilt and feel the blade’s power flow through me. I had heard the tale of the Sky Sword from Rikard but was not prepared for the thrill I feel in its presence. 

“My lady…” Enid whispers from slightly behind me. She knows me well and, thankfully, has kept me from making the grave mistake of being too forward.

I will not kneel to this barbarian but I bow slightly and lower my eyes as he walks toward me. 

“You are right, again, Stav,” I hear him whisper to his companion. “A female equal to us in strength and fire.”

I raise my eyes and meet his. The blue of the sky, of deep pools, and a few exquisite flowers, greets me. Instead of being cold, however, they hold such warmth and charm I feel my heart melting even as I struggle to find words. I certainly don’t want him to think I’m weak-willed enough to fall under his spell immediately. But, gods above, I have. My heart is no longer my own and, for whatever reason, I know it will belong to this man forever.

He reaches for my hand and I give it. He bows deeply and kisses each of my knuckles, lingering in the contact longer than I would have thought seemly.

“My lady, Maeve.” His voice is a perfect match to his mesmerizing eyes. When he raises his head and gazes into my soul, I am utterly lost. “My future queen,” he murmurs for only my ears to hear.

HAAJENSEN

As required by our traditions, Maeve and her handmaid, Enid, have been sequestered since their arrival, approached only by the members of their household and the few servants of Rikard’s to whom they had become accustomed.

Maeve and I have had only sufficient conversation to come to agreement: she will be my queen and wife. The wedding will take place at the first full moon. Which is tonight.

Stavish has been supportive and encouraging, giving me not the slightest reason to feel as I do, which is as if I am betraying our love for each other.

“Nonsense,” he states, in no uncertain terms, reading my mind. “You and I, Haaj, have a bond no one, male or female, can ever break. We love each other more than life, itself. We’d die for each other.” He runs his strong fingers into my hair and grips tightly. “I’m not saying I won’t envy her for every moment she’ll spend with you, but I promise I won’t wish it were not so.”

He straightens my cloak, adjusts my crown, and pushes me toward the door. “Go, Sire, get married!”

The ceremony is mercifully brief. Afterward, the dinner is extravagant and the liquid refreshment thoroughly enjoyed by almost everyone. Maeve and I, through mutual unspoken agreement, eat and drink sparingly. 

When we reach the chamber I have set aside for her - the one that had been my mother’s - I’m surprised by the look in her eyes that borders on timidity. I would have thought she would be prepared for anything. Her uncertainty, though, after the initial discomfort and embarrassment have passed, turns to a smoldering will to please me I have never known from anyone except Stavish. 

I vow to satisfy my new queen and then lavish more intimate attention on Stavish than ever before. He must not be allowed to feel he is not my first choice. He is, and always will be!

“You do not love me, Kenneth, and probably never will,” Maeve says, as we enter her quarters on the third night of our marriage. She picks up the linen gown Enid had laid across the foot of the bed and disappears behind the modesty screen. “I see the way you and Ambassador Stavish look at each other,” she continues, as I disrobe. “I have listened to the tales of the battles you two have fought - the obstacles you’ve overcome - and I understand the attachment you feel for each other.”

Coming from behind the partition, her smile is peaceful and she reaches for my hand. “I love Enid as the best friend I’ll ever have but it’s not the kind of love you have for Stavish. You and he share a bond that must not ever be broken. You love each other with a love I think only the gods have known before.” 

“Are you not jealous?” I ask, truly humbled.

“No. I’m happy that he returns your feelings. Were it otherwise, I would have his heart cut out and served to me on a platter. You belong together but I also understand your need to father a son, in order to keep this kingdom in the hands of those who treasure it, and not in those whose only wish would be to plunder it. To that purpose, you require a male heir.” She unties the ribbons at her shoulders and lets the gauzy material fall to the floor, holding her arms open to me. “Therefore, come to me, my king, and let us secure your throne.”

MAEVE

After I was captured, only Enid’s constant support and encouragement kept me from killing myself. Now, even though this morning sickness endures beyond the time the midwives tell me it should have ended, I am the happiest of women. I will bear my king’s child in time and I am already positive it is a son. He will guarantee the continuation of my husband’s line. He will thrive and we will be so proud of him.

“Do you think Ambassador Stavish would lie with me?” Enid asks, blotting my sweaty forehead with a soft cloth. She helps me to my feet and toward a chair by the fire. “If the king requested it?”

I sit and study my best friend as a servant darts in and removes the bucket. “Why do you ask that?”

Her eyes cloud and her smile disappears. “I find I want a child.” She puts a gentle hand on my swollen stomach. “The king’s face changes when he looks at you. You say he doesn’t love you but I know he loves the life you carry.” She looks deeply into my eyes. “I want to see that look in Stavish’s eyes.”

“You love him!” I am angry with myself for not having seen it before. Her chin drops and I raise it gently, gazing at her with all the affection I’ve felt for her since we were children. “I shall ask my husband.”

Laughing and sobbing, she falls into my arms.

HAAJENSEN 

Stavish snuggles against my chest and I pull the covers over our exhausted bodies. Making love with this warrior, this philosopher, this devoted friend is always more satisfying and thrilling than anything I ever imagined. He is a constant challenge and pleasure and we never seem to disappoint each other.

“How is Maeve?” 

His voice is so soft I might have misheard. Jostling him lightly, I wait until he looks up at me. “I’m sorry. We’re lying here together in my royal bed, having just made love with each other through two full bands of the candle, and you’re asking me how my queen is?”

“I am.” His tone is unabashed. “She’s a good woman. I admire and honor her. She’s a wonderful wife to you. The people see her growing your child in her womb and are happy for you both.”

I begin to tickle him and he wiggles, choking out dire threats, until we relax in each other’s arms. I stroke his face and kiss the offered lips softly. “She’ll never have my love and she knows it. But she says she’s pleased to be carrying the throne’s heir and I believe her.”

Stavish nods against my chest. “She’ll do her duty as your queen, and the mother of your son.”

“Are you sure it’s going to be a boy?” 

His arms tighten around me. “Your mother has told me so.”

I draw back and lift his face to look at me. “When, lately, have you seen my mother?”

“She came to my chamber the third time you lay with Maeve and told me. He was conceived that night.”

“And why, love of my life, did you not see fit to inform me?”

“Your mother asked me not to. She said you’d find out in good time.”

“Ah…” I draw him back against me and breathe in the scent of the soap he favors for his hair. It has a woodsy smell that I never tire of inhaling. “Enid wants your child.”

 _“What!”_ Stavish gasps and attempts to sit up. “I don’t have any children to give her. At least, not that I know about.”

I pull him back against me and adjust the covers over his shoulders. “Not a child you’ve already sired, Stav. Sometimes, for an intelligent, worldly, traveled man, you can be very dense.”

“Huh?” He thinks for long moments before blushing. “Oh! _Oh!_ She wants…?”

I chuckle. “According to Maeve, yes.”

“Oh…. _Why?”_

“Apparently, Enid sees how happy Maeve is and is becoming envious.”

“She watches your queen throw up every morning and decides she wants that?”

I shrug. “Women.” He’s silent for a long time so I prod again. “What would you think about it?”

“What would _you_ think, Sire?”

“Don’t attempt to be subservient, Stav, we’re talking about you and Enid, not me.”

“But there is no me without you, Haaj, you know that!”

“Okay. And the reverse is true also. So, is this similar to what we talked about before the wedding? When we knew it would be my duty to get Maeve with child as soon as possible?”

“Not really. That was about an heir, to help keep Osten Daag’s tongue behind his teeth. Someone to inherit the Iron Throne when you’re finished with it.”

“How delicately you phrase that.”

“Hey! I hope your son will be so old before you’re done, he’ll have to turn to his son to inherit.”

“ _We’re_ done, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“Now that you’ve succeeded in changing the subject,” I tease, “I’ll change it back.” I am now quite serious. “How would you feel about fathering a child with Enid?”

“Weird, I think.”

“Why?”

His words are almost inaudible. “I haven’t been with a woman since…”

“Do you believe I’d be jealous?”

“I don’t know, would you?”

“Did you have such feelings when I lay with Maeve?”

“No! Because, as I tried to explain, that was for an excellent reason. And Maeve’s turned out to be a good friend. She wasn’t expecting anything except your seed. She wasn’t trying to come between us, break us up.”

“No one could do that,” I vow.

“I know, and that’s why I wasn’t jealous.”

“But, with you and Enid? You’re asking if I would be? Since there’s no political reason for you to have to couple with her?”

“There wouldn’t be a ‘have to’ involved. Enid’s a beautiful, desirable woman - if I still desired women.”

“And?…”

“And, what? Do you think I’d have difficulty getting it up for her?”

“Oh, no, my friend. I don’t think you’d have a moment’s hesitation.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“So, how would you feel?”

“You’re really pressing this, aren’t you?”

“I love Maeve. No! Don’t give me that slit-eyed look, I admire and value her. She’s been an excellent help to us.”

“You’re right,” he agrees, “and I do know that.”

“It’s just that I used the word, love. Is that it?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“You are my love, Dawid Stavish, you always have been and you always will be. But Maeve is my queen. She will be the mother of my child. And she wants this for her best friend. She says the children will be close and grow up to love and support each other.”

“As we do.”

“Yes.”

“Then, how can I decline?”

“Good! Because Maeve tells me Enid wishes it to be tonight.”

_“Tonight?”_

“According to Maeve, Enid believes if you lay with her tonight, you will not have to do so again.”

“How can she know something like that?”

“I have no idea, but do you doubt?”

“No.” He grew thoughtful. “Women know women’s things.”

“Indeed. So. Will you do as Maeve and Enid wish?”

“Okay. I guess so. If you’re sure.”

“I did my part with Maeve. This time, it’s your turn.”

STAVISH

I sit next to King Haajensen on the balcony outside the throne room, the light of a single candle sufficient to allow me to see the starlight mirrored in his blue eyes. 

By silent, mutual agreement, our hands reach for each other and join. 

I think back to the day I entered the room behind us for the first time and feel my face form the smile in my heart. The very best years of my life have been lived here in this little kingdom of the North.

Haaj and I have known a love few, if any, other humans have experienced. We have fought side by side, defended his land and crown from all who would have taken it from him. We have seen our people grow content. Our own children thrive and Erik is a man full-grown, prepared for rule. We can ask no more.

“The gods, and those who dwell in Valhalla, will welcome us,” Haaj tells me, quietly.

I have my doubts. “Why should they be happy to see me?”

“Because,” a deep, male voice says, “you have loved our son, Warrior.”

“And shown only respect and honor to our people,” a mellifluous female voice adds.

Haaj squeezes my hand and I realize if he is ready to go, I am as well. But… my stomach grumbles… maybe not right away. “Are we expecting guests for dinner, Haaj?”

“Not that I know of,” he replies. “Why?”

“Don’t I smell pig?”

“Ah, the cooks have uncovered the roasting pit and you’re salivating already. That’s the boar Erik killed last week.”

“His biggest one yet,” I say with pride.

“So it was! The head will require weeks of preparation before it’s ready to be hung on the wall, but Maeve told me the massive body won’t keep in this weather until the next scheduled festival.”

“So, we’ll eat it tonight?” In anticipation, my gut begins making highly impolite sounds. I clap a hand across my belly. “Sorry. I'm hungry.” 

My king throws his head back and laughs, and there’s so much joy in it, I can’t help but add my own happiness. He hauls me to my feet and leads me inside. “Tonight, my love, we feast!” 

END


End file.
